Category: Heritage & History

After sharing Bele’s story yesterday, several MGIMS alumni requested that I describe Premdas. Today, I had the opportunity to interview him, and what I uncovered is truly fascinating.

Like Bele, Premdas entered the MGIMS hostel in ’72, originating from Pujai village. Before discovering his place in the Boys’ hostel, he also worked as a daily wage laborer in the gardens, much like Bele.

Born in February 1950, Premdas Charbhe hailed from the Kadajna village, just 3 km from Hinganghat. His father’s labor at Mohta Mills anchored the family. Premdas attended Bharat Vidyalaya in Hinganghat, completing ten years of schooling.

In 1968, the family resettled in Pujai, 5 km from Sevagram, where his father tilled rented land. Yet, financial woes soon plagued them. Just out of his teens, Premdas bore the weight of responsibility, laboring to provide for his kin.

In 1969, when Indira Gandhi visited Sevagram with several Congress delegates, Premdas was there, volunteering. He moved swiftly, attending to the delegates’ needs. His diligence caught the eye of Narendra Bhai, the boys’ hostel warden. Impressed, Narendra Bhai offered him a job in the Sevagram gol gardens near the old hospital, now the community medicine department. For two years, Premdas toiled in the gardens, planting, pruning, and tending to every task with care.

Narendra Bhai’s ailing mother watched Premdas from her window, noticing his worn-out clothes and weary expression. One evening, she called her son over and whispered a request. Shortly after, Premdas found himself with a new role as an attendant in the boys’ hostel.

Without a written order, he became the unofficial chowkidar of the newly built blocks A to F. Living in Room No. 1, Premdas jingled a large ring of keys as he made his rounds, often finding an empty room in the hostels to sleep in at night. Narendra Bhai made sure Premdas didn’t go hungry, arranging for him to eat in the hostel mess free of charge during those first few months.

One night, as the hostel lay silent, Dr. Madhavan Govinda Pillai’s bicycle, parked in front of Room No. 4, disappeared. Premdas, the chowkidar, dozing off in the adjacent Room No. 3, heard nothing. The next morning, the bike was found, mangled and discarded. Dr. MG Pillai, now a renowned cardiologist based in Mumbai, belonged to the class of 1969.

Mr. Gir, father of Rukhmini Gir Karad (1972 batch), served as the chief security officer at that time. Renowned for his strict discipline and no-nonsense attitude, this military figure commanded awe from both the boys and the hostel staff.

Premdas dreaded the possibility of being fired for his lapse in duty, having fallen asleep during his assigned hours.

Premdas stood before Narendra Bhai, the warden, his face etched with fear. Narendra Bhai leaned in, whispering urgently. “Say you saw nothing. It was too dark. And you had gone to start the water pump.” Premdas nodded, repeating the words to himself. His job was saved, but the weight of the lie settled heavily on his shoulders.

After Narendra Bhai left, Dr. D.T. Kolte, the head of Anatomy, stepped in. Premdas often found himself on the receiving end of Dr. Kolte’s warm smiles and kind words. In 1976, Dr. Kolte handed Premdas a letter. It was his permanent job appointment as a hostel attendant.

Back then, the work never stopped. Premdas would be mopping floors one moment and running errands the next, his day stretching endlessly into the night. There were no fixed duties, only an unspoken rule to get things done whenever and however needed.

Premdas and Laxman Bele, both from Pujai village, fell into a routine. Each morning, Bele pedaled off on his bicycle, returning with bags of groceries. Meanwhile, in the evenings, Bele’s door-to-door campaign to collect mess bills would begin, often stretching past midnight. Premdas, on the other hand, remained indoors, in the hostel office, his fingers dancing across the typewriter keys, sifting through stacks of handwritten notes.

Premdas and Laxman Bele shared a bond forged through shared experiences. They were inseparable, akin to the iconic duo Viru and Jai from the early seventies.

Their bond didn’t go unnoticed. Dr. Deepak Telwane, from the class of ’78, called them “Love and Bailey,” like the Surgery Textbook. Another nickname, “Laurel and Hardy,” echoed through the corridors. Dr. Narendra Samal, with a twinkle in his eye, dubbed Premdas the “English Man,” while Dr. R.K.C. Gupta saw him as a “He-Man.”

But the best description of this duo came from Kishore Shah (1974), who said, “Bele and Premdas were the Munna and Circuit of our times.”

“We were a team,” Premdas recalled, a hint of pride in his voice. “Bele outside, me inside. And those typing lessons at Sharad Typing Institute? They turned me into a clerk of sorts. I could read the handwriting of several wardens whose writing nobody else could decipher, and I typed letters for them.”

Among the early batches, he recalled the names etched in the annals of time: Subhash Shrivastava, Dilip Chotali, Madhav Panara, and Dilip Sarnaik—all from the class of ’69. Dr. Deepak Fuljhale (1972) and Milind Wable (1979)—their youthful faces and distinctive styles remain vivid in his memory even today.

“Let me tell you about Dilip Sarnaik from the class of ’69. When the warden was away, he’d step in quietly, keeping watch over the hostel’s affairs,” he whispered.

As Premdas delved into the past, he painted a picture of a time when scooters were a rare sight, affordable only to a select few. He vividly remembered Dr. Subhash Patil, Suleman Khan with his Bullet, K. Shankar Raman, and Akil Teherbhai (all from 1970) zipping around on their motorcycles. And then there was Sanjay Khot (1975), who proudly parked his Fiat in the Boy’s hostel, setting a new standard of luxury.

“For the first-year medical students who arrived at the boys’ hostel, I was often mistaken for the chief warden,” Premdas recounted. “They would address me with respect as ‘Premdasji.’ A year later, I became just Premdas. But as time passed, they became more like friends and began adding a playful slang before my name.”

“We always looked forward to the students’ elections,” said Premdas. “Winners celebrated with drinks, and losers drowned their sorrows in what was forbidden here. We mingled with both groups, always getting our share of the tempting indulgence. Wins or losses didn’t matter to us,” he added with a grin. “We always came out ahead, enjoying a taste of the forbidden elixir.

Premdas served under various wardens, from Mr. Narendra Bhai to Ramji Singh, each leaving a mark on his journey at the boys’ hostel. However, the wardens he remembers most, with a teary eye, are Narendra Bhai and Dr. DT Kolte, the warden of the early seventies.

In 2000, he left the hostel for the hospital and became a registration clerk in the OPD. That’s when the hospital switched from paper to electronic health records, and he was one of the first to learn computer skills and test out the new system.

Ten years later, in 2010, he retired at 58. Now, at 75, he enjoys spending time with his son and daughter in Bengaluru, reminiscing about the good old days. He divides his time between Sevagram and Bengaluru, cherishing moments in both places.

“I can recall each student of the first ten MGIMS batches by their roll numbers,” Premdas said, a smile playing on his lips. “The love they gave me then and still give now—it fills my heart with joy.”

Truly, those were the days—filled with challenges, friendships, and cherished memories.

MGIMS sprang to life during the monsoons of 1969. In the early years, there were no proper hostels. Boys stayed in the Patel hostel, and girls in the nursing hostel. These were not true hostels, but simple shelters that provided a roof over their heads.

In 1972, eight hostel blocks were built, labeled A through H. Each block had 51 single rooms for students. Five blocks were for boys, two for girls, and one for interns and postgraduates. The first four batches admitted 60 students each, with only 66 girls in total. Shri Narendra Bhai was the boys’ hostel warden, while his wife, Vidya, supervised the girls’ hostel.

During this time, a tall young man entered the hostels. Despite his limp from polio, he moved with a confident swagger, towering above those around him.

His name was 𝗟𝗮𝘅𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗧𝘂𝗸𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗲. He came from Pujai, just 5 km from Sevagram. After two years as a daily wage laborer in the garden, Bele joined the boys’ hostel.

There, he became a jack-of-all-trades: a mess boy, 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑖 𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖, security guard, and billing clerk.

Always on duty, he wore a constant smile. He knew every student by name and hometown. He had an uncanny ability to anticipate their needs and often went out of his way to fulfill them.

In 1974, Bele earned a promotion to clerk. Dr. D. T. Kolte, the new head of the Anatomy department and Warden of the Boys’ hostel, made this possible. He saw Bele’s talent and helped him advance from attendant to clerk.

Before this, the warden, Narendra Bhai, saw Bele’s potential. He encouraged him to take typing lessons at the Avthankar Typing Institute in Wardha. Narendra Bhai even lent Bele money to buy a bicycle.

Bele enjoyed running errands for the medical students. His bicycle made it possible. He zipped through the streets of Sevagram and Wardha several times a week.

He always finished tasks for the students swiftly and efficiently.

In the early seventies, the hostel buzzed with life. Two groups emerged: Maharashtra + Jhansi and North Indians + Maharashtra. “During student elections, their battles were intense,” Bele said. “They rivaled the fierce political contests we see today.”

They picked candidates, planned campaigns, crafted strategies, courted voters, and even resorted to mischief. Kidnappings, bribes, and threats—all in the pursuit of victory. He told me this today as we sat in the Medicine department, recalling the good old days.

“Yet, once the dust settled and a winner emerged, all animosity vanished. They lived together in perfect harmony.”

In the beginning, the hostel mess was set up. A five-member committee handled everything from buying groceries to planning menus and supervising the kitchen. Students could have lunch and dinner for just Rs. 60—only one rupee per meal. Milk or curd cost extra.

Bele had a unique task. Each evening, after sunset, he went door to door in the hostel to collect the mess fees. With smiles and persistence, he coaxed, cajoled, and convinced the students to settle their dues.

Not everyone complied at first. But Bele had his ways. Eventually, they all paid up. Later, he teamed up with Mr. Premdas. Together, they became beloved figures in the hostel’s history. More about Premdas, later.

Dr. D.T. Kolte taught Anatomy in Sevagram from 1973 to 1976. In those three years, he made two major contributions to the Boys’ hostel. He promoted Bele from attendant to clerk and brought the Indian Coffee House to the campus. This change, in 1974, stopped the hostel mess from providing breakfast and evening tea.

Three decades later, in 1995, Bele moved to the MS office. He worked there in various sections until February 2005. Now 78, he still walks tall and speaks with passion, vividly recalling his days in the hostel.

“Ah, those were the best days,” Bele smiles, memories flooding back. Students from ’69 to ’89 still remember him. They are always happy to see him, whether at their homes or clinics. The bonds they formed back then have lasted.

Time hasn’t changed a thing. They still love and cherish Bele.

At reunions, they always make a fuss over him. Their heartfelt words always move him. Just hearing his name brings back so many memories for the students who passed through the hostels with him.

Bele, his name resonates like a bell, ringing loud and clear, echoing through the corridors of their minds.

Yes, those were the days!